Shifting Grounds
by Sarahbob
Summary: Grantaire watched horrified how the floor beneath Enjolras gave way and how his perfect, marble statue tumbled down. He was momentarily frozen to the spot, but then Enjolras' pain filled scream tore through his heart and he flew down the stairs; calling Enjolras' name as he went.
1. Chapter 1

_(I have a new idea for a story and I just started writing. This is what came out. I have no idea if it is any good. It follows the events of Grantaire going to Barriere du Maine to do Enjolras' bidding and it just completely turns into something different afterwards...)_

* * *

He should have known it! He should have known that Grantaire of all people would not be fit for the job. He should have known better than to let the drunkard make him believe that maybe he was good for something. That maybe he did believe in something. But here Grantaire was, playing dominoes for Heaven's sake! Enjolras shook of anger and he felt strangely betrayed. How could he have let his mind slip into thinking that maybe the most cynical member of their group would change if only he was given the chance? Enjolras was embarrassed. Grantaire had made a fool out of him.

He stormed across the streets of Paris back towards the Café Musain; rage too profound to even think straight and therefore he did not think himself capable of speaking with the members of the Cougourde of Aix anymore. He had sent Grantaire as his representative to Barrière du Maine; he had – for once – decided to swallow his doubts concerning the wine cask and give him the opportunity to prove himself. And oh, how he had failed. How he had humiliated Enjolras, the Amis and all the things they believed in. Apart from being outraged and furious, Enjolras recognized the feeling of intense disappointment. Somewhere deep down, he had really hoped Grantaire would step up and prove his worth to them.

"Enjolras! Enjolras, please wait and let me explain!" a voice behind him called. Enjolras knew it was Grantaire; he knew that Grantaire had seen him at Barrière du Maine. He could still see the shocked expression and the shame in the drunkard's wide eyes. Enjolras turned around, wildly, eyes flashing dangerously and hands clenched into fists. "Don't bother, Grantaire. Just leave, and for all of our sakes, don't ever return," Enjolras growled as he continued his way to the Café. He really wished Grantaire would leave him alone now, because his fists were aching to take a swing.

"You do not mean that! Enjolras, I admit my mistake, but you have no right to send me away. That is not only up to you and I doubt the others will be so quick to dismiss me without even giving me a chance to explain." Grantaire recognized the desperation in his own voice, but he did not care. Enjolras could not send him away. Without these meetings – no matter how useless Grantaire thought they were – he had nothing. Without this group of friends; without their faith and inspiration; Grantaire might as well be dead. "Enjolras, please!" he called again when the blond man he so admired, ignored his pleas and just kept on walking.

Enjolras did his best to block out Grantaire's voice, but when he reached the deserted Café and made his way up the stairs to the backroom, heavy footsteps behind him told him that he was still being followed, and something inside him snapped. He spun around so fast that his vision was tilting slightly. With just a few steps he was only inches away from Grantaire; their foreheads nearly touching. "I thought I told you to leave me alone Grantaire," he said in a dangerously controlled and calm voice; though the anger was clearly there too. "How dare you? How dare you come after me after this?"

Grantaire recoiled a little and drew in a shaky breath. "You speak of justice and equality; of forgiveness and second chances and yet here you are banishing me from your life without offering me any of those things you so passionately speak about. That doesn't make you any better than those you oppose, Enjolras." He had gone too far. Grantaire knew that he did. And so the sudden slap in his face hardly surprised him. He raised a trembling hand to cup his cheek and knew a bruise was forming already.

After hitting him, Enjolras slammed his fist against the wall behind Grantaire and turned away with a frustrated shout. "I do not understand you, Grantaire!" he roared, "You do not make any sense to me whatsoever. Why must it be your goal in life to mock everything I do? Why do you strive to make a fool out of me? Why do you keep coming back if you don't care about anything we try to accomplish? Why Grantaire?"

Grantaire swallowed, but kept silent. For once he wasn't in the mood to counter Enjolras' words with arguments. He had screwed up and he knew it. Enjolras had given him one chance, and he blew it.

"Every single day I wonder if maybe – just maybe – there will be a day when you will prove all my doubts about you wrong. Every day I hope that you'd put your quick tongue to better use than to scoff at me. Every day I pray that you see how much of a better person you could be if only you'd try; if only you'd allow yourself to believe in something. And every day, you disappoint me. And then today, you ask to be my representative; you offer to do something for our cause…And I trusted you. Never have I been so disappointed in someone and the worst thing is that I don't even know why I care! Why do I even care about you and your actions? I don't understand."

Enjolras was close to panting and now spoke more to himself than to Grantaire, who was still pressed against the wall and looked guiltily to the floor; tears gathering in his eyes. "I am sorry," Grantaire whispered in a broken tone; one that Enjolras had never heard before. "I don't know why I failed you; I really wanted to do well this time. I am terribly sorry even though I know you'll never believe me. But please don't send me away, Enjolras? I need you and the others like I need the air I breathe; please don't banish me from your group."

Enjolras glared at him and shook his head in disbelieve. He really did not understand this person who stood before him. He just didn't make any sense. Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his mouth to speak, but his words were cut short by a loud cracking beneath his feet. Before he knew what was happening, the floor on which he stood shifted; the wooden planks snapped and suddenly, Enjolras felt himself falling. He hit the ground below him hard and winced when a sharp pain shot through his right leg. But that was nothing compared to the blinding, white hot pain that followed and ripped a gut wrenching scream from his throat.

* * *

Grantaire watched horrified how the floor beneath Enjolras gave way and how his perfect, marble statue tumbled down. He was momentarily frozen to the spot, but then Enjolras' pain filled scream tore through his heart and he flew down the stairs; calling Enjolras' name as he went. He felt sick to his stomach when he reached the blonde's side and saw the reason of Enjolras' broken moans and pained face: a large, sharp wooden stake had pierced his friend's right side. He gasped and tears sprang to his eyes. This was bad; very bad. Enjolras' eyes were clenched tightly shut and his hands desperately grasped around the floor in search of something to hold on to.

Grantaire immediately fell down next to his blond friend and took one of his hands in his own; he winced when Enjolras squeezed it with all his might. "Enjolras? Enjolras are you with me?" he asked anxiously.

Enjolras' eyes fluttered open; blue eyes glazed with pain. He looked at Grantaire for a second and tried to understand what on earth had just happened. Then his eyes trailed down until they came to the object piercing his side and he quickly looked away again; swallowing convulsively. "Grantaire," he whispered quietly, "Grantaire, take it out. Please, you have to take it out."

Grantaire's eyes widened and he shook his head. "I can't," he replied; ignoring Enjolras' attempt to roll his eyes, "Enjolras, I can't take it out. You'll bleed to death if I do. I…you need a doctor…Joly and Combeferre aren't far from here. C-can you move?"

Enjolras let out a laugh, although it sounded a lot closer to a strangled sob. "What do you think?" he said through gritted teeth; his hand squeezing Grantaire's even tighter as the first tears made their way down his cheek. He let out a miserable groan. "I can hardly breathe without that thing stabbing deeper. Besides, I think I broke my leg." He tried his best to keep his composure, but it was all too clear to Grantaire that Enjolras was in unimaginable pain. He had to be.

"I…ah…God, Apollo….okay, well than I'll go get them for you, alright?" Grantaire suggested, even though he really didn't want to leave Enjolras alone. "I know where you sent them and I'll be right back; less than fifteen minutes, I promise." But just when he loosened his grip on his friend's hand, Enjolras' grip turned iron and he furiously shook his head.

"No," Enjolras breathed weakly, "Don't leave, please….R, don't…d-don't leave me alone."

"Enjolras, I have to get you help! Who knows how long it will take before anyone else comes back here?" Grantaire tried to convince the younger man, but Enjolras kept shaking his head; and refused to let go of Grantaire's hand. And there were some emotions in his eyes that Grantaire had never seen there before: fear, vulnerability and uncertainty.

"Please, Grantaire," Enjolras muttered, "Please, just this once could you do as I ask? Stay…" He closed his eyes as another fierce wave of pain washed over him. "I-I don't want to be alone…I don't want to die alone." Those last words were spoken so quietly that Grantaire had to strain his ears to hear them. But he did hear them and they made his world spin so violently that he had to close his eyes or else he would have fallen over. _He's not going to die. He cannot die. Not like this._"Please, just stay here…" Enjolras whispered again.

Grantaire had to bite his lip to keep from crying. How could this have happened? One second Enjolras had been fine. He was furious, of course, but he had been fine. And now his marble statue was cracking and talking of death and asking him to listen to him; just this once. How could Grantaire disobey him again? What if he left and Enjolras did in fact die? Then he would've failed again; he would have refused to live up to his Apollo's dying wish. Wordlessly, he settled down on the floor and he gently carded his fingers through the golden locks.

"Okay," he said shakily; his heart hammering in his chest as he doubted his every word; his every decision, "Okay, I'll stay. Don't you worry, I won't leave, I promise. But you are not dying Enjolras, because it is not your time. Not like this. So don't you dare give up on me. We'll just wait together – here – until the others return. Everything will be fine."

Enjolras nodded his head ever so slightly and a small, grateful smile tugged at his lips. They stayed like that for a few minutes – in silence – until Enjolras started to shiver a little. Grantaire took off his own coat and draped it around his young friend's body; carefully avoiding the disturbing wound on his side. Their hands were still linked together; although Enjolras' grip had lost most of its strength. Hundred thoughts were running through Grantaire's head. _Have I made the right decision? Should I go and seek help anyway? Is he going to make it? Is there something I can do to ease his pain?_

Yes! There was an answer to that last question. Grantaire always wore a flask of brandy with him and it might just take the edge off Enjolras' pain. He softly pressed the flask against Enjolras' lips and coaxed him into taking a sip or two. To his surprise, the fearless leader obeyed at once and gratefully drank out of Grantaire's flask until the drunkard decided he had had enough. He didn't know if it had helped at all, because Enjolras did not say anything, but he did feel his body relax a little and he just prayed that was a good sigh.

"R?" Enjolras mumbled after another few minutes of silence; eyes still closed and breath now coming out in small gasps, "Talk to me?"

_Talk to him? About what? What does he want to hear?_ Grantaire searched his mind, but he couldn't think of anything. _What was there to say?_ Only minutes ago they had been fighting. Enjolras had been so angry with him; had punched him in the face. And now he wanted - needed - Grantaire to talk to him? The cynic closed his eyes in quiet desperation and prayed for Joly or Combeferre to come in. Enjolras was so very pale. He needed help.

"Okay," Grantaire said softly while he kept carding a hand through Enjolras' hair. "Okay...I-I'll talk...uhm...well, you know I've never really been like this at all, Enjolras," he began quietly. He didn't know what brought this on, but Grantaire suddenly wanted Enjolras to know why his life had turned out the way it had; why he was the way he was. "I used to be very different from this shell I am now...I used to have a real future when I was younger. My father was willing to pay my studies; I was going to attend the School of Arts, you know...I was happy; I had a nice family...It was all so very different from how it is now..."

Enjolras didn't say anything, but Grantaire could tell he was listening by the way his blond friend softly squeezed his hand every now and then.

"Everything was going the way it should...until they attacked my little sister..." Grantaire sniffled sadly, "They raped her, you know...they robbed her and raped her and no one came to help. They wounded her so badly, she passed away even before my father had found her... And those bastards; they got away with it. They got away with it just because of their status and their dirty money...And my parents, they couldn't cope. They lost their only daughter; their little sunshine. There was no one who could help; nobody even cared. Father killed himself and my mother slowly wasted away until she died as well; so a year after I lost my sister, I lost both of my parents. And I was the only one left behind."

Grantaire never spoke of his past; not ever. Why would he now? He didn't understand, but words were flowing freely from his mouth and he couldn't stop them. He somehow needed Enjolras to know that he'd never meant to become this bitter, negative person.

"I was broken...I dropped out of school and I wanted nothing more than to just kill myself as well. But I was too much of a coward; I had the knife, but I couldn't do it. I drank instead and I just kept on drinking and I never stopped. And somewhere along the way, I turned into this bitter person who just can't bring himself to believe in anything anymore. I've been disappointed so many times in my life, Enjolras...I wouldn't even be able to tell you about it all. And I don't know why I'm even telling you this. It is no excuse for my behaviour of today, but I guess I just wanted you to know. I just want you to know that I was a different person once. I really was."

Grantaire squeezed Enjolras' hand and watched how more tears trickled down his face. He wondered if it was just the pain that brought them on.

Enjolras felt miserable. Breathing was becoming harder and harder; the pain was nearly unbearable. His whole body was drenched in cold sweat and every muscle in his body shook violently. He was scared. "Grantaire?" he whispered quietly and Grantaire leaned down to hear his words. "I don't want to die like this. Not like this..."

"You're not. I promised you wouldn't, remember? And I intend to keep that promise to you; even if only just this once. I will not fail you. Please don't give up, Enj-"

A movement in the corner of the Café made Grantaire's head snap up. There was a small shape that the cynic recognized at once. "Gavroche! Thank God, it's you. I...we need your help!"

TBC.

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_(I have no idea if anyone even remotely likes this concept; it was just something that kept playing in my mind. Please do let me know if you want me to continue it)_


	2. Chapter 2

_(Hi guys! Thank you all so much for the reviews and follows :) Means a lot! To avoid confusion: this story takes place early in the morning and the Café would not yet be open (hence the fact that it was deserted). The owner of the Café allows Enjolras and his friends to use the backroom of the Café even when the Café itself is still closed. So there's that :) On to the story!)_

* * *

"Gavroche!" Grantaire exclaimed as soon as the window gave him view of a small figure moving just outside the front door. He'd recognize the gamin's hair and hat everywhere. "Gavroche! I...we need your help, get in here please!"

Enjolras let out a small moan at the sudden loud noise above him and Grantaire softly squeezed his hand. He stared intently at the door, hoping that Gavroche would just do as he said and come in. He did.

The young child peeked around the door and let out a gasp; shocked at the sight that met him. His big, blue eyes went from Enjolras to Grantaire to the ceiling and then back at Enjolras. All blood slowly drained from his face and his eyes were fixed on the ugly wooden object that was stuck in his leader's right side. He swallowed convulsively a few times and fought hard against the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes. He'd seen much in his short life, but never something like this.

"Don't worry, don't worry Gavroche, he...h-he is going to be just fine. But we need your help. I-I need to you to fetch Madame Hucheloup for me, okay? Tell her to come to the Café; she knows we had a meeting here earlier. And then go to Rue de Saint-Antoine. Joly and Combeferre will be there and they need to come back here as soon as they possibly can. Please hurry, Gavroche," Grantaire pressed and he smiled a little when the boy nodded, turned on his heels and darted out the front door.

Grantaire focused his attention back on the younger man beneath him. He looked paler than ever and a small sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead. Enjolras suddenly looked so young, so innocent and so vulnerable. It frightened Grantaire. He had never before seen his Apollo in a state like this. As if he would shatter at the lightest touch. The dark haired man tightened his hold on the slender, pale hand and shifted a little so that he could pillow Enjolras' head on his lap.

"See, Enjolras? Everything is going to be okay. Help is coming and you'll be fine. I-I promise," Grantaire said in a shaky voice. He wondered if his promises even held any worth to Enjolras. It wasn't as if he had ever followed them through before. Just half an hour ago he had failed to do what he had promised. But then again, never before had he promised something with so much conviction and faith as he did now. Somehow this promise felt different than all the others.

Enjolras swallowed hard and opened his eyes to slits. He gazed up at Grantaire and just watched him for a bit as if his eyes needed time to focus. "Thank you," he breathed after a few moments and he tried to squeeze Grantaire's hand although he nearly didn't have any strength left. "F-For staying."

Grantaire's heart skipped a beat and he offered Enjolras a wry smile. "You know me...I'll always stay. And I'll always come back. It's hard to get rid of me." He brushed some of Enjolras' golden curls back with a trembling hand; slightly amazed by the fact that his Apollo allowed him to do so. Grantaire used to think it was a gesture only meant for Combeferre and Courfeyrac, but apparently Enjolras' current vulnerable state permitted him, too.

Enjolras watched him for a little while longer, with an expression Grantaire couldn't quite fathom, and then closed his eyes again. He was breathing far too shallow for Grantaire's liking and even though the cynic did not know much of anatomy or medicine, he was pretty sure that a heart wasn't supposed to beat at such a slow rate. Especially not Enjolras' heart which was meant to beat loud and proud with passion and courage. The realization made Grantaire's heart beat all the more faster. _Please, please hurry Gavroche. _

* * *

Within the next five minutes or so the door of the Café opened again to reveal a slightly plump, kind looking woman with rosy cheeks and her dark hair in a messy bun on the top of her head. She gasped at the sight in front of her and hurried towards them. "Oh, mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! What happened here?" She exclaimed as she run her small hand across Enjolras' forehead.

Grantaire could've cried actual tears from relief when he saw Madame Hucheloup and realized he was no longer alone. Help was coming. "Madame, thank God you're here. Monsieur Enjolras and I...W-We were upstairs in the backroom arguing and...and Enjolras was pacing and then suddenly there was this loud noise and then the floor gave way and Enjolras fell...and...and well, you can see for yourself the result isn't all that good..."

Grantaire's words came out hurried and jumbled and Madame Hucheloup had to concentrate very hard to hear them all, but the gist wasn't hard to understand. She glanced up at the ceiling and pressed her lips together in disappointment and regret. The wood around the gap was clearly rotten. No wonder it gave way. "Oh dear," she muttered, inspecting the wound on Enjolras' side and turning paler at the sight of it. "Poor boy, is he conscious? Have you sent for a doctor?"

As if he wanted to answer the question himself, Enjolras' eyes fluttered back open and took a moment to focus until they turned to Madame Hucheloup. He tried to smile, but it came a lot closer to a pained grimace. "M-Madame..." He whispered weakly, "I a-apologize for b-breaking your floor...R-rest assured that all costs w-will be mine." A lone tear trickled down his cheek and he winced as every word sent daggers into his broken body.

"Hush my dear boy! That is not something I want you to concern yourself with. My customers will just have to stay downstairs for a while and I'll have the Café closed until you are tucked away in a nice warm bed and I have cleaned this mess," Madame Hucheloup cooed quietly, wiping the tear away. Then she turned to Grantaire and asked again: "Have you sent for a doctor, boy? And did you try to disinfect the wound already?"

Grantaire stared at her for a second. "Y-Yes, Gavroche has gone to get Joly and Combeferre...A-And disinfect? No, I haven't...I don't really have supplies and he didn't want me to leave him alone, so I didn't go search for them..." He gave the younger man beneath him a protective look and bit his lip. _Should he have gone looking for them? But what would he be looking for in the first place? He wasn't a doctor. How should he know?_

Madame Hucheloup smiled a little, stood up straight and quickly walked into the storeroom where she kept her most expensive drinks and tableware. She came back with a bottle of vodka, some clean cloths and a glass of water, which she gave to Grantaire. "Try to get him to drink some of this. He's going to dehydrate at the rate he is sweating."

After Grantaire had done as she asked – Enjolras gladly gulped the water down – she crouched down beside them, took Grantaire's coat away and poured some of the alcohol on the cloths. Then she took out a knife to cut away pieces of Enjolras' shirt surrounding the wound and very, very gently, she started to dab the injured area with the cloth that was drenched in vodka. Enjolras' eyes snapped open and he let out a miserable moan. He tried to squirm away from Madame Hucheloup – who kept a firm hold – and looked up almost pleadingly to Grantaire, begging him to make her stop.

"Madame…a-are you sure you know what you're doing?" Grantaire asked hesitatingly, but he shut his mouth as soon as the woman gave him a stern and expressive look. "I-It's just that…you're hurting him…" He added quietly when Enjolras let out a small sob.

"Of course this is hurting him, darling, but it is necessary. We don't want an infection on top of this, I think. It is the least we can do until your two doctor friends arrive. Just hold his hand and try to calm him down. I'm almost done…"

Grantaire swallowed thickly and did as he was told. He grasped Enjolras' hand tighter and leaned down to whisper soothing words in his ear. To his surprise, Enjolras actually listened to him and he tried his best to breathe through the pain and relax as much as he could. They stayed like that for a few minutes more – as long as it took for Madame Hucheloup to stop her dabbing – and then a little while longer until Enjolras regained his composure. When the plump lady announced she was going to make a fire – "It is far too chilly in here" – Enjolras gently tugged at Grantaire's hand to bring the cynic closer.

"I a-apologize for hitting y-you," he breathed quietly, only loud enough for Grantaire to hear because he was leaning so far forwards. "I-I should not h-have gotten violent."

It was too much. Grantaire couldn't handle this. It was just too much. Here he sat, on a dirty floor in an old rundown Café with his idol cradled in his arms, hands entwined and Enjolras was showing his human side to him for the very first time. To him. To Grantaire. He was apologizing to him; he was begging him to stay; he was telling him that he didn't want to die. He was putting his faith in Grantaire; believed him when he told him that everything would be alright. And it scared Grantaire more than he would have thought, because he didn't know how to deal with this type of Enjolras. This young, vulnerable boy who looked up at him with these big blue eyes, pleading him to make it okay. It was just too much.

"Hush now, Enjolras," Grantaire mumbled ever so softly right by Enjolras' ear, his dark curls brushing the younger boy's forehead. "I-I deserved it, we both know that. I failed you when you decided to give me a chance and you will never know how sorry I am for it. I blame myself as much as you blame me, so don't apologize. Please, be quiet, we can talk about this later…"

A faint smile ghosted across Enjolras' face. "You did deserve it…", he whispered with a small sigh, "B-But that still didn't give me the right to hit you. P-Please accept my apology, I-I need you to, please. Please, R…"

And suddenly Grantaire understood what Enjolras was trying to do. He needed Grantaire to accept his apology so that he could die with a clear conscience; so he could die in peace. Well, that was just not going to happen. He wasn't going to die. He wasn't allowed to. Not now, not like this. Grantaire gritted his teeth and squeezed Enjolras' hand tighter to emphasize his point. "No I will not accept your apology. Not like this. You are not giving up on me, Enjolras, don't you dare. You can apologize to me when you're in a bed, healing, and then we can have a talk. But I will not clear your conscience, just so that you can give up. Apology _not_ accepted."

Enjolras did his best to glare, but the effect was lost on Grantaire. "'S not fair," he muttered sulkily, but he didn't have the strength to say any more on it.

"Well, tough Apollo. It's not fair to give up on me either, so we're square. Now stop talking and just focus on breathing, alright? Joly and Combeferre will be here soon and they'll fix you right up. Just wait and see. And I'm right here too, I'm not going anywhere."

Enjolras nodded and squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of white hot pain washed over him. He'd never been in this much pain in his entire life and if he was honest, he was really sick of dealing with it. But as long as Combeferre would be here soon, then he could hold on a little longer. As long as Grantaire kept squeezing his hand, he could hold on a little longer. As long as the pain wouldn't knock him out, he _would_ hold on a little longer. For himself, for his friends and for his cause.

TBC.

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_(Shorter chapter this time, but I wanted to wait with bringing Combeferre and Joly to the picture until chapter three, so there's that. Hope you enjoyed this one, please leave a review if you did. Thanks! :))_


	3. Chapter 3

_(Hi guys! Thank you all so much for your reviews and support. And I am so, so sorry for the delay on this chapter and the lack of updates on my other stories. I've been really busy and I hardly get any work done. Apart from that, I'm in a pretty rough place right now... But anyway, I do hope you like this chapter. Enjoy!)_

* * *

Grantaire was starting to get restless. Enjolras' condition was deteriorating rapidly and there still was no sign of Combeferre or Joly. It had been nearly twenty minutes now. Twenty horrible, long minutes in which Enjolras was getting paler and paler and his breathing was becoming more and more shallow. Twenty minutes in which both Grantaire and Madame Hucheloup desperately tried to stem the bleeding and to keep Enjolras conscious. Twenty minutes full of pleads and curses; swears and what-the-hell-is-keeping-them's.

Enjolras no longer had the energy to keep his eyes open and the hand that was holding Grantaire's had lost all its strength. He was struggling and fighting for every breath and he was so tired. So very tired. He hardly felt the pain anymore except for the white hot waves that spiked every now and then; everything was fuzzy and it was almost like a thick blanket was pulled over his head to block out every sound. He knew that Grantaire was speaking to him, but he couldn't understand the words, no matter how hard he tried. He was floating somewhere in between consciousness and sleep. He knew he was still there; but at the same time he wasn't really present. He wanted to fall asleep. He was so tired.

"Enjolras," Grantaire called out, softly slapping him in the face and squeezing his hand. "Enjolras, just hold on a little longer. They will be here soon, I swear it. I know it. Don't give up on us now, okay. Please just stay with me. Can you open your eyes? Just for a second? Just to let me know that you can still hear me?"

It took some time for Enjolras to understand what Grantaire was saying to him. The words came from so far away, _couldn't he speak any louder_? _I can hear you, but I can't open my eyes. I'm too tired Grantaire,_ Enjolras thought miserably. He tried to speak the words, but all that came out was a quiet moan followed by a pained wince.

"Okay," Grantaire muttered softly, "Okay, that's fine too. Thank you."

* * *

Combeferre was worried. One minute he was with Joly talking to the other medical students about their meetings and the next he was running as fast as he could back to the café with Joly on his heels. He couldn't believe what Gavroche had told them. It couldn't be true. Because if this was true then his best friend would be in serious danger and there would be a chance that Combeferre might lose him and that just wasn't an option. He just couldn't believe it. This accident… It was too ridiculous to be true. They must be pulling some kind of prank on him and Joly. But then why was Gavroche in tears? Why did his heart beat so loud and why was his stomach in knots?

He didn't want to think about what he might find when he got to the Café. All he really wanted was to get there as soon as possible so he could prove to everyone that Enjolras was fine and that they should feel ashamed for scaring him like this. He swallowed thickly and forced his feet to move faster even though they were already aching from his current rapid pace.

It took him no more than eight minutes to get back to the Musain and to have all his fears realized. The minute he opened the door, stepped inside and was met with the sight of his best friend lying pale and shaking on the floor, his heart stopped and it felt like someone was trying to throttle him. The air was knocked out of his lungs and all he could do in that moment was stare. Stare with his mouth slightly agape and shock written all over his face.

He took a few cautious steps forwards, not even noticing the words Grantaire was speaking to him or the way Joly immediately jumped into full medical mode by ordering Madame Hucheloup around and gathering his medical supplies which he always left at the Musain...just in case. Everything passed in a blur for Combeferre and only when Grantaire whispered something in Enjolras' ear and his best friend attempted to open his eyes, was the poor medical student snapped into the present. He bolted forward, dropped to his knees and carefully took Enjolras' hand in his own and cradled his head in his lap.

Grantaire backed up a little to give the two best friends some space. He felt strangely insecure and hollow now that he separated from his Golden Leader, but Enjolras needed to see that help had come so that he could fight a little while longer. If the situation wasn't so horrible, it was actually quite a sight to behold. The way the two best friends were drawn to each other. The way Enjolras' hard expression – which he had tried to maintain as long as possible – softened as soon as Combeferre was near him. The way Enjolras looked up at his friend, almost pleading – begging – him to make everything alright. To take the pain away. It was a transformation that hardly anyone had ever witnessed and almost only occurred whenever Enjolras was in serious danger or when he was scared. Grantaire had to swallow the lump in his throat when he saw how his friend's face crumpled and how he tried his best to turn towards Combeferre; to hide away from all the pain and misery; to seek comfort. And all Combeferre had to do to have Enjolras open up; to have him share his deepest emotions; was just to be there.

Combeferre gently carded his hand through Enjolras' blond curls and bend forwards to press a lightkiss on his forehead. He squeezed his young friend's hand – which was slick with cold sweat – tight and murmured soft words into his ear until Enjolras' eyes fluttered open to small slits.

"There are those blue eyes," Combeferre whispered and he offered Enjolras a small smile. He couldn't help the tears leaking from his eyes. "Everything is going to be okay now, my dear friend. I'm here and Joly is here and we are going to fix you right up. I promise. You just have to hold on a little longer. Can you do that for me?"

Combeferre spoke slowly, pausing every now and then to give Enjolras the time and chance to keep up with what he was saying. When asked if he could hold on, Enjolras huffed miserably and squeezed his eyes shut. His mouth formed words and even though he didn't make any sound, Combeferre knew what he was trying to say. _It hurts_.

"I know you're in pain, Enjolras," Combeferre said softly, eyeing Joly as the other medical student spread out his medical supplies around himself and carefully inspected the grotesque wound. "I know it hurts, but I also know that you are one of the strongest people walking this earth and you _can_ hold on for us. I know you can."

Again, Enjolras didn't speak. He was far too weak to cooperate and his mind was far too fuzzy to form any coherent sentences. Nothing more than a quiet whimper escaped his lips. But he also nodded. It was a motion barely noticeable. Easily missed when one had blinked his eyes a little too long. Both Combeferre and Grantaire had seen it and they uttered a relieved sigh. As long as Enjolras still had some fight left; as long as he wouldn't give up, Combeferre and Grantaire dared to believe their own words of comfort and reassurance. Because as long as Enjolras would hold on; so would they.

"It's not even that bad, mon petit Ami. It's not that bad, it just looks that way. You'll be fine you'll see," Combeferre said directly into Enjolras' ear; desperately hoping it wasn't too big of a lie. He glanced at Grantaire and frowned confused when he noticed the impressive black and blue decorating his right eye. _What on earth happened? _Combeferre desperately wanted to know, but now was not the time. Joly's eyes were filled with dread and concern when he beckoned him.

Combeferre nodded and looked back down at Enjolras again. "Joly needs my help now, Enjolras...to fix you up," he said quietly while he pressed their foreheads together. "Grantaire will be right here with you all the time. You just hold on to him, squeeze as hard as you want and try to listen and focus on his voice… Can you do that for me, my friend?" It took a few moments for Enjolras to nod again and Combeferre placed another kiss on his sweaty forehead. Then carefully shifted away from his young friend so that Grantaire could take his place.

"Take his hands. Both of them, Grantaire, and hold them tight. I need you to keep talking to him; it doesn't matter what you say, as long as he hears you. You need to try and keep him conscious, alright?" Combeferre gave Grantaire a pervasive look and the cynic nodded shakily as he grabbed both Enjolras' hands and squeezed them gently. He watched Combeferre move away with wide eyes, took a deep breath and then copied the position Combeferre had occupied seconds before by leaning forwards so that he could speak directly into Enjolras' ear. He had no idea what to say, knew that Enjolras was probably not even really listening to him, but if Combeferre thought it important that he heard his voice than Grantaire would do just that. And so he babbled away about everything that came to mind including his new favourite drink which he really wanted to have right now.

* * *

In the meantime, Combeferre moved closer to Joly so that he could have a good look at the wound. He bit his lip and swallowed convulsively. _This was really bad… _He clenched his hands into fists when he realized they were shaking and he gave Joly an anxious look. "How bad is it? What do we do?" Combeferre asked quietly so that neither of the two other boys could hear him.

Joly sighed in response and shook his head. His eyes swept over the wound and he pursed his lips. Very carefully, he reached out and dabbed the same cloth Madame Hucheloup had used around the injured area. "It-uh… It's pretty bad, 'Ferre…" Joly muttered lowly. "He already lost a lot of blood and even though Madame here has cleaned the wound with alcohol, it already looks infected… As far as I can see, the piece of wood is smooth, so as long as Enjolras doesn't move too much I don't think it will leave splinters when we pull it out. It's a deep wound, but at least it didn't go all the way through."

Combeferre blinked rapidly, nodded and took the bottle of alcohol that Joly handed to him.

"What we need to do first is clean this area thoroughly," Joly continued nervously, "We need to pour some of the alcohol straight into the wound before we pull the object out. Then again after it's out. And it's going to hurt him a lot, but it's necessary if we want to even have a chance to control the infection. A-And then… W-We can't stitch the wound up; we don't have the time. He has already bled a lot and he's going to bleed even harder when this thing is out… He'll bleed to death before we're able to close the wound properly…"

Combeferre's heart sank. He already knew where Joly was going with this and it scared him, because that wasn't going to happen. His thoughts were confirmed when he noticed Madame Hucheloup preparing a fire. "No…" he whispered, "Joly… we can't. Not without any anesthetics or something to help with the pain…"

"Cauterization is his only chance right now, 'Ferre. I'm sorry, but we really don't have any other option if we even want to try and save him."

Combeferre kept shaking his head. They couldn't do this to his young friend.

"The wound is quite easy to close this way, Combeferre," Joly continued, "It'll be painful, yes, but it will be the quickest way to help him and the most productive way too. We really don't have another choice…You know we don't…"

The bespectacled student bit his lip and looked up at Enjolras. His friend's head was carefully laid in Grantaire's lap and his cynical friend was gently whispering words of comfort directly into the blonde's ear. Neither of the two had heard what Joly and Combeferre were discussing and Combeferre wondered if they should let them know what they were about to do. Well… Grantaire had to know; he had to be prepared.

"I can't do it, Joly. My hands won't stop shaking, I'll only do more damage. I can't do it."

Joly shook his head and handed Madame Hucheloup the disinfected iron spoke with a flat and square ending, telling her to put it into the fire. "I'm not asking you to do it. I don't want you to either… You've never done this procedure before, I have, so I'll do it. I just need you to hold him as tight as you can. He needs to be as still as possible. Grantaire has his arms… I'm going to ask Madame Hucheloup to hold his legs and you need to hold his torso…"

Another few desperate tears fell from Combeferre's eyes, but he nodded. It had to be done. Joly was right… This was the only way. If they didn't do it, Enjolras would definitely die and that just wasn't an option. He glanced back at his best friend again and bit his lip as he felt his heart break painfully. He moved back to Grantaire and gently tapped his shoulder to explain to him what they were about to do. Grantaire's eyes grew comically wide and if the situation wouldn't be this terrible, Combeferre might have laughed. "You need to hold him as still as possible, R," Combeferre said quietly, squeezing his shoulder in a vain attempt to reassure him.

* * *

The following minutes broke everyone's heart. Madame Hucheloup, Combeferre and Grantaire did their best to keep Enjolras' writhing body as still as possible while Joly first cleaned the wound, then pulled out the stick, then cleaned the wound again and finally seared it close. The wretched sounds Enjolras was making would forever haunt their minds; would forever plague their dreams. To Enjolras himself, the torture seemed to go on forever. He didn't understand what he had done to deserve this. Why were they hurting him so? Why couldn't he move? Why wasn't there anyone to save him from this? The pain was blinding and indescribable.

It was pure bliss when his brain finally decided it had had enough and shut itself down; blocking out everything and everyone. Enjolras fell into blissful oblivion.

TBC.

* * *

_(So there you have it. It isn't very long, but I hope it was okay. Please review and let me know what you think and I do hope my next update will be sooner! Thanks)_


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